I wrote this at about 7 in the morning without having any sleep, so forgive me if it doesn't make sense یا if it's rushed in some parts.

Fat.
I stared into the mirror, frowning, and tears falling from my eyes. God, why did I have to be so fat? My hair is imperfect. My skin is worthless. My boobs are too big. I am so imperfect. I grabbed my eyeliner and applied it thickly around my eyes. Grabbing the tube, I put some skin bronzer on my revealed skin. I put the long, black extensions in my hair, and walked back to the living room, sitting in front of the TV, staring at the beautiful شخصیات مشہور on the television.
Brandon stepped into the room, scoffing upon seeing me. “Who’s so phoney and always surrounded?”
Giving him a glare, I tossed a تکیا at him, telling him to leave my house.
“Stop your screaming, no one can hear.” He turned and walked back toward my room.
“Brandon, get away from my room!” I screamed, walking quickly toward him.
He entered my room, turned, and faced me. “All the scars on your skin: Post No Bills.” He stared at my wrists, covered with scars. I used to cut myself. I still did. His dull blue eyes, now filled with tears flickered up to my face. “Who آپ were was so beautiful. Remember who- who آپ were.”
My eyes started watering. He never کہا anything like this to me before. I didn’t know what to do. I just stood and watch him speak so slowly and softly.
“Hide from the mirrors that crack at the memories. Hide from your family, they won’t know آپ now.” Brandon motioned toward an old family تصویر on my dresser, sighing, and turning back to me. “For all the holes in our souls host no thrills.”
Grabbing my shoulders, Brandon began to weep. “Who آپ were was so beautiful. Remember who – who آپ were.” He held me close.
We stood like this for a while, crying, and holding each other. My makeup was running down my face, and for once, I couldn’t care less. Brandon had been trying to help me all of this time. All of this time that I was nothing but a Screenager.